


in sickness and in health

by asunthr



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, felix can heal, felix makes things better, it's not easy being sylvain, let sylvain CRY, let sylvain be sad, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28259814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asunthr/pseuds/asunthr
Summary: Sylvain was alone with his wounds. That was fine.Wasn't it?He spent most of his life tending to his own self and hiding to avoid nosy questions from others. It was just the way things were. It was what he was used to. Why should a small part of him willingly yearn for the care of another now? Why?But Felix couldn't see him like this. Heedless of his own will, Sylvain's mind repeated over and over what Felix would really think. He'd think Sylvain was pathetic. Irresponsible. Stupid. Useless. No matter how you put it, a strong man couldn't have someone weak by his side.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 71





	in sickness and in health

**Author's Note:**

> just a head's up an infected wound is mentioned in this so if that's not your thing i suggest clicking away

It wasn't easy fighting a war on two fronts. Between the Sreng incursions up north and the Dukedom attacks from the west, Sylvain had his hands full. He couldn't remember the last time he was able to savor a nice cup of tea by the quietest corner of the Gautier estate, or the last time he snuck in a leisurely reading moment for himself in the library. Most days, all he could think about was the war. Whether it was risking his life out on the battlefield or negotiating with nobles to gather more resources and support, the war was his constant companion.

But on some days, on some blessed days, he had his little moments of peace. He had another companion, one he knew he cherished deeper than anything he thought he was ever capable of, even when his mind liked to tell him differently.

Felix.

Together, they threw themselves into the war and somehow that brought them closer than ever before. They became as drawn to each other as Felix was with his sword and Sylvain was with his self-doubt. In between the frequent brushes with death and the countless nights spent uncertain of the future, they found each other.

It was great. It was splendid. It was wonderful. It was probably the only thing Sylvain was fighting for. But as much as he enjoyed Felix and the feelings they gave each other, he was terrified.

When was the last time Sylvain had something this real? Did he even ever have that at all before? He didn't know. And that's why, all the more, he didn't want to fuck it up. It was hard enough to navigate things when you were someone like him, much more when you're in the middle of a war as well. The doubts could be consuming, the fears worse if he ever gave a voice to them.

So he did what he did best. He shoved them away with false rationalizations and may have been a little too careless when it came to his own life. Felix, when he was around, was always quick to remind him in his own Felix manner that Sylvain didn't need to feel that way. And when Felix pulled him closer at night or when he buried his head in the crook of Sylvain's neck like that was where he was meant to be, he could almost—almost—believe it wholeheartedly.

It was simply easier when Felix was around. It was easier for Sylvain to feel like he really deserved what he had, even if he felt like the small part of him that was always convinced it was an illusion would never die.

But when Felix was away and all Sylvain could see was the pain of a war that had been going on for too long and a kingdom without a king, it was easier to listen to the darker parts of himself instead. It wasn't like he wanted to, but he couldn't help it. More like, he couldn't stop it. War, both the war in Fódlan and the war in his head, were his constant companions.

He always felt the worst after a hard battle. The most recent one was particularly rough, even if it wasn't supposed to be. It was routine at this point to intercept Imperial troops daring enough to cross the Itha Plains. But sometimes skill in the face of a deadly combination of luck and ruthlessness was nothing.

Sylvain lost a quarter of his battalion's men that afternoon. It was a victory, but nearly everyone suffered their own injuries of varying degrees. Sylvain did too, maybe a little worse than what he had in a while, but it was bearable. Others had it worse, he told himself as he surveyed the situation around their main camp. They needed the care more than he did. He'd be fine with a vulnerary, a bath, and as good as a nap he could get in his lonely cot.

After downing one of his last vulneraries, Sylvain shuffled into the bathing tent while clutching his bloody shoulder. He leaned against a supporting pole to steady himself before removing pieces of his armor as gently as he could. It took some effort, and his shoulder screamed at him every time he moved it too much, but he finally managed to fully undress himself.

He didn't realize how bad it actually was until he saw his naked body.

Countless bruises and scrapes littered his abdomen. He found two noticeable cuts, one on his arm and another on his thigh. But the worst injury was the one on his shoulder. It was a stab wound that would have gone clean through him had he not kicked his assailant with a rush of adrenaline.

Well, it wasn't really the worst that happened to him, but _fuck_ , did it hurt.

Sylvain tried to ignore the sting every time he poured water over himself, but it remained there painfully reminding him of his mortality and how exhausted he was with the damn war. He scrubbed the blood and dirt off his body as delicate as he could, but it was hard to clean yourself with a gaping wound permitting use of only one arm. Frustrated, he stepped into the tub instead and sank into in the cool water.

He didn't move for a long time as he savored the sensation the coolness brought him. He leaned back, allowing his muscles to rest, and ignored that the water was slowly discoloring with the leftover blood and dirt. Well, he tried his best. It wasn't like he could call anyone for help. Even if he wanted to, the healers were occupied and he didn't dare make himself look pitiful like this.

That, and the only person he wanted to be around was still out on a different campaign.

So Sylvain was alone with his wounds. That was fine.

Wasn't it?

He spent most of his life tending to his own self and hiding to avoid nosy questions from others. It was just the way things were. It was what he was used to. Why should a small part of him willingly yearn for the care of another now? Why?

But Felix couldn't see him like this. Heedless of his own will, Sylvain's mind repeated over and over what Felix would really think. He'd think Sylvain was pathetic. Irresponsible. Stupid. Useless. No matter how you put it, a strong man couldn't have someone weak by his side.

Sylvain got himself into this situation, and he was going to get himself out of it regardless of the pain.

Although it took quite some time, Sylvain managed to clean up and dress the wound as best as he could. He tried to sleep soundly that night, but if it weren't his nightmares keeping him up, it was his wound smarting with every toss and turn. A part of him also almost hated to admit it, but it was no help that the cot felt a tad bit empty.

Like an answered prayer, Felix came early two days later. He immediately knew something was wrong when he found Sylvain lying in his cot and taking a moment longer than usual to register that he had arrived.

"Felix! So lovely to see you again. How have you been?" Sylvain said as he stood up grinning as if their lives were normal.

But Felix always saw through him. "Sylvain. What happened to you?" he asked, his piercing eyes immediately scanning over Sylvain's body.

"Ah, it's nothing," Sylvain replied with a casual wave of his hand. "My much needed nap just felt real good."

"Do you take me for a fool? Don't lie to me. You got hurt, didn't you?"

"I handled it. You don't need to worry."

"Then show me."

Sylvain smirked. "Wow, eager to get me topless, huh?"

"Sylvain," Felix said, his voice surprisingly gentler than Sylvain expected as he took a step closer. Even underneath the annoyance in Felix's eyes, there was that certain softness that Sylvain seemed to always teeter between running toward and running away from. "Just show me the wound."

Sylvain stiffened, but somehow his body moved on its own. It was always harder to say no to Felix when he looked at Sylvain with that. Like he was worth it. Like he always had been.

The only sound in the tent was the rustling of fabric as Sylvain slowly undid the laces of his tunic. Doing this in front of someone was something like second nature to him at this point, but somehow, under the weight of both his own shame and Felix's gaze, his hands were shaky and shy.

Sylvain held back a hiss as tried to peel back the fabric covering his shoulder, but Felix caught it right away. He moved to help Sylvain, who could only stand helplessly when the familiar feeling of Felix's fingers touched his skin.

"Tell me what happened," Felix said, peeling back the fabric. His eyes narrowed at the bandage, which was discolored and faintly giving off a weird odor Sylvain hoped he was imagining.

"A miscalculation. Some soldier with a sword. Fast, but not as fast as you. And definitely not as cute," Sylvain replied, grinning as if flirtation was a solid line of defense against vulnerability and humiliation.

Felix groaned but urged Sylvain to sit on the cot so it'd be easier for him to inspect the wound. "When?" he asked, that soft tone returning.

"Two, three days ago? Time blurs when I'm not with you," Sylvain answered, but his last line of defense was weakening. Felix didn't even react that time. Instead, he was staring at the bandage with a worried crease between his eyebrows, and Sylvain was so overwhelmed by the care in his eyes he felt himself clamming up.

"You couldn't get it healed right away?" Felix asked with a frown.

"My men needed it more," Sylvain replied quietly, looking away. "I thought it'd be fine."

"Never mind. Just stop talking," Felix ordered. He rolled his sleeves up. "I'll heal it."

No. Felix had already seen too much. Sylvain couldn't be this way in front of him. Sylvain couldn't give him more proof that he was really weak, useless, undeserving. "It's fi—"

"Come." Felix took his hand, shutting him up, and led him to the cot where he sat him down. He reached for the hemline of Sylvain's tunic.

Sylvain grabbed his wrist. "Felix, really—"

"Sylvain, it's infected."

"It is?" Sylvain murmured. He was frozen. Only one thought was cycling through his head: How could Felix be with him like this? He sucked in a breath and prepared himself for the inevitable tirade. _You fool. Weakling. You're always so reckless and inattentive. You never change. Look what you did to yourself. What a farce._

But it never came. Instead, Felix let out a frustrated sigh and calmly pried his wrist free from Sylvain's grip. "How many times do I need to tell you to stop trying to survive on your own? You used to argue with me because you said _I_ was too much of a lone wolf, but look at you. How far does this have to go? How far does this have to go, Sylvain?"

Sylvain winced, a little bit from Felix's words, but mostly from the recoil of his own shame. Defeated, he whispered, "Sorry."

"Look, just…" Felix trailed off with another sigh. "Do you have a fresh bandage?"

"Yeah, I think. In my pack. By the corner. Left pocket."

Sylvain watched with glazed eyes as Felix retrieved the last of his bandages. He kept his mouth shut and turned his head away when Felix's practiced fingers finally helped relieve him of his tunic. It wasn't the first time he let Felix undress him, but for some reason it felt like it was. He might have still been wearing his pants too, but he felt naked. He could feel the intensity of Felix's gaze, like every glance across his torso left trails of fire in its wake. Once again his mind tormented him, telling him that Felix was judging him, scorning him, rejecting him for ever getting himself into such a pathetic situation.

It was worse when Felix finally sat down beside him and removed the bandage. The sweet yet sickening smell of an infected wound finally hit Sylvain full force, and he had to shut his eyes in the face of his mind yelling that he was a disgrace. He couldn't even gather up the courage to look at Felix and see his reaction, but he could clearly imagine him recoiling in disgust. Felix would leave the tent, unable to take how Sylvain could be pathetic enough to let his wound fester, and call for another healer, someone who was more willing to care for him and then he'd—

"Sylvain," Felix whispered, cupping his jaw with his free hand while the other healed his wound. His eyes fluttered open. "It's okay."

It was only when he felt Felix swipe his cheek with his thumb that Sylvain realized he had been crying. Well, there really was no turning back now, was there? As the pale glow of Felix's faith magic softly illuminated the tent, Sylvain tilted his head back with what sounded like half a sob and half a chuckle.

"Felix… Why are you doing this?" Sylvain asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Still focused on his task, Felix huffed. "You mean to tell me you don't know the answer by now?"

His response was so him that Sylvain let out a real chuckle. If their situations had been reversed, this would have been the moment he would have showered Felix with how many different answers, each and every single one of them honeyed and true, until Felix's whole face and chest were flustered. But Sylvain knew better, deep inside. In moments where he may have loved his words, Felix always spoke with his actions. And in times like this, it was what he needed.

There it was again. That little flame in his chest. The one that Felix always managed to stoke so effortlessly with just a look, a touch, a whisper. Sylvain allowed himself to feel it. As Felix stayed and tended to him, something that was a declaration in itself, he allowed himself to feel it until it outshined everything else.

"Right. Yeah. Sorry," Sylvain muttered. He enveloped Felix's hand over his cheek with his own and clasped their fingers together before letting them rest on his lap. He held on to Felix. He held on to the safety he could only ever feel with him.

"Stop apologizing," Felix said, his eyes flitting up to meet Sylvain's. That little crease between his eyebrows was back. "That's why I'm here to remind you."

Sylvain smiled, genuine and bright. He kept himself in this moment, in the feeling of Felix shielding him from his doubts and fears. He sniffled. "You're the best, Felix. Have I ever told you that?"

"There you are again. Remember it this time, okay? Get it into your head," Felix urged. He shifted his hand to lead Sylvain's toward his own chest, over his heart, and added quietly, "Get it here."

Felix didn't need to tell him twice. Just having him look at Sylvain like this, having the warmth of his hand over his chest, it was like Felix was shining a light through every crack in his heart. And more than anything, Sylvain wanted it to stay. 

"What, remember that you're the best or…" Sylvain still couldn't help but tease, earning him an eye roll in return. He chuckled softly and lifted Felix's hand back to his face, resting it against his cheek again and turning to press a tender kiss into the center of his palm. "I know what you meant. I promise I'll remember this time."

"Good," Felix whispered.

"I missed you, Felix," Sylvain muttered against the heel of his palm. "I really don't know what I'd do without you."

The corners of Felix's lips curled upwards in a tiny smile. "You'll never find out."

**Author's Note:**

> sylvain: haha what if we have that classic patching up scene but there's no pining and unresolved sexual tension just angst with much needed reassurance at the end and a PALM KISS??? also i just realized this is really just the "i'll take care of you" "it's rotten work" "not to me. not if it's you" but sylvix 
> 
> let's project onto our comfort characters together: my [twitter](https://twitter.com/asunthr)


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